The Father Killer
by Theory G
Summary: What happens when a famous serial killer from Grissom's past goes after the two women he cares for, telling Grissom with a letter. But what happens when he mistakes one, for the other? GSR, takes place during season 1. Rated for future content.
1. Back with a Lily and a Letter

I was trying as hard as I could not to fall asleep behind the wheel, but it's hard when you were supposed to have the night off to take care of your sick year old.

It was one in the morning; I had just gotten Andy to sleep when I got the call about a half an hour ago. I wanted to kill Grissom for waking her up along with dragging me out here into the hills.

As it turned out, I wasn't the only he had dragged out here.

I put the SUV in park and shut the engine and grabbed my kit next to me in the passenger seat at the same time Warrick opened the door for me.

He looked just as tired as I was, but his green eyes were serious and worried. I figured it was just a bad case. It was supposed to be triple homicide; three females, all shot in the neck. I figured he was just under guilt for what had happened.

"Where's Grissom, I need to give him some crap for waking a sick kid?" I asked while getting out of the car.

Warrick laughed, "Andy sick?"

I nodded, "A flu's been going around her daycare and I've been blessed that she was the last one to get it, so there is no chance of her getting again, but I won't promise you that she didn't give it to."

Warrick laughed again and led me to the house that was marked off by yellow crime scene tape.

It was a two story and an old one at that, maybe made in the late thirties of forties. It was made out of white brick and was covered in plants. There were all finds of plants everywhere: on the porch railing, on the side of the house, and on the roof next to the second story windows.

We walked in cautiously inside the house. I looked everywhere that I could see while Warrick led me up the spiral staircase and into a large room that I would guess as the second living room.

In the large, spaced out room, there was a white brown couch with nothing else in the room other that a mirror over the fireplace and a coffee table in front of the couch.

On the couch, curled up in a ball as though a child, there was a young girl, maybe in her mid twenties. She had dirty blond hair that fell over her shoulders and bangs that covered her closed eyes.

She looked as though she was positioned, with her hands together under her head and her legs curled up. She looked as though she was…sleeping.

"That's Tiffany McKay. She's the owner of the house; got it when her mom died in a car accident two years ago. Father's been dead since she was eleven months. The two others are down the hall. Grissom's got that room." Warrick explained.

I nodded and left him in the room to collect the evidence, however, it didn't look as though there wasn't much of it.

"Oh, and Sara?" Warrick said while I walked down the hall to the left.

"Yeah?"

"Grissom's being…protective over this case. I don't think these girls are the first that this guy has killed."

I nodded and shot him a smile.

"Wish me luck with the principal?"

He laughed and went back to the scene.

I walked into a room that looked like it was Tiffany's and it was just as odd as the living room.

The walls were bare other than the purple paint that covered them and the closet they held. The closet door was open and inside there was girl with short, curly black hair and a scared, yet soothed face. She was positioned much like Tiffany, except she was sitting in the closet with her hands together under her hand, against the wall.

The other girl was on the bed, her brown hair pulled into a simple ponytail, her eyes closed and her legs curled, almost as though she was trying to go to sleep. Her hands were like the others'; placed together, under her head.

I didn't notice his presence until he walked up behind me.

"He does it to all his victims. He goes for women who have lost their father, in anyway. He stalks them, gets to know them and kills them when he wants to. He always shoots them in the neck, so he can hear their screams until the last second of their life." Grissom said behind me.

I jumped at the sound of his voice and he soothed me by running his hands lightly against my arms.

"That's all he does?" I asked, turning my head so I could him.

He shook his head, "No. He taunts them, makes them believe they have a chance. He always takes a souvenir from them and he always cuts them in the place he admires most."

I was about to suggest a certain place but he placed his index finger on my lips, silencing me.

"I told you he stalks them. While he does this, he finds the place on them he is most attracted to. His first victim, in '89, he cut her hand, like this,"

He took my hand from my kit, placing it on the ground softy and taking my hand. With the tip of his index's fingernail, he traced an outline of my hand and then came to my fingers, where he traced straight line down each finger and into down into my palm, connecting the lines from each finger.

When he was done, he let my hand go gracefully and looked me in the eyes with those solid blue ones. His sincere, calm face sent a shiver down my spine.

He sighed and looked past me, at the two girls. "He never leaves any evidence only what he leaves on purpose. He's a gentleman, I suppose. When he takes something, he always leaves behind something he finds…childish."

He held up an evidence jar, red evidence tape sealing the jar shut. Inside of the jar was a lily, a lily that had eight petals on it. The lily looked as though it had lost some petals, or someone had taken it off.

He walked past me and into the middle of the room, looking at the girls and the walls. I knew his mind was dazing off, going somewhere else, somewhere I didn't know. So I saved him before he could go into another world.

"Why is there only eight? Why does it look like he picked some off?" I asked.

He sighed, and then looked at me, "Because he did. There should be two other lilies around here; I know there are because if it was only one of them, this would have been his eighth kill in twelve years. This is the first time he's killed them all together."

"Um, actually, he didn't kill them all together. Jim just confirmed that Tiffany went missing first," Warrick said coming up behind me, "Then Amy," he pointed to the brunette on the bed, "Then Ana." He gestured to the girl in the closet.

"They came here, looking for one and other. He was waiting for them, knowing that they would come after each girl." Grissom said quietly, looking around the room, probably for the lily.

He walked around for a series of moments while Warrick and I just watched until he came to the desk in the corner, right next to the closet.

He picked up a piece of paper carefully and read the words on it. When he did, his face turned from serious face turned into a worried face. He looked at me with wide eyes and then shot another glance at the paper.

"Warrick, finish up with the scenes. Sara, you're coming with me." Grissom said, his voice wondering.

"Wait…why?" I asked as he grabbed my arm and towed me out of the room.

He didn't answer, he only kept towing me until we were outside and next to the SUV I had come up to this place in. He took my kit, threw it in the trunk, put me into the car and got into the driver seat.

He buckled himself, then he realized that he didn't have the keys.

I hung them up in the air and jingled them when he noticed. He tried to grab them, but I pulled them back, away from his grasp.

"Sara, please." He pleaded.

"Tell me why you're doing this." I ordered.

"Sara, give me the keys." He commanded his voice serious and threatening. He reached for the keys again.

"_Tell_ me, Gil."

He looked at me, his face twisting up with restraint. "You and Catherine are going to be under protective guard." Was all he said.

"Why?" I asked while he tried to grab the keys again.

He sighed in frustration then looked at me with those worried eyes. "He's coming after the two of you. When he targets a woman, Sara…he won't stop until he kills them. The longer it takes, the longer it takes for the women to die and the more painful the process is."

He took the keys from my hand while I was in shock and started the engine, pulling out his phone at the same time. Calling Jim I would have guessed.


	2. Protective Guard and How it Doesn't Work

We were at the station, Catherine and I, surrounded by a bunch of uniforms that wouldn't even let us go get a soda or a bag of chips.

I was getting really annoyed with this whole "protective guard" thing. I didn't need any protection, and neither did Catherine. Grissom should have known better than that by now.

My foot was tapping against the floor impatiently as we waited for news or anything that didn't involve, "I'm sorry, miss, but you can't do that." Or "Miss, you can't leave the building." _I _was particularly for Grissom and when an hour passed by, I knew Catherine was waiting for him too.

Finally, after an hour and a half after we both became impatient, at three thirty, Grissom and Brass walked into the room the two of us were in and told the uniforms to wait outside until they were done talking to us.

I stood up, as did Catherine, and looked at the two middle aged men. Both of them were worried and serious, concerned. Catherine and I, however, were pissed and frustrated.

"Nice to see protective guard hasn't changed you two." Brass said, trying to pull a smile.

The two of us smiled smugly back at him, then looked at Grissom. Catherine was the first to speak about our…problem.

"Gil, what the hell is going on? Sara said you got some letter that said a guy was going to kill us. C'mon, Gil, you know better than that." Catherine said disappointingly.

"Did Sara tell you _who_ the letter was from?" Grissom asked in reply, emphasizing on me.

"She said it was some guy that killed girls who had lost their fathers. News flash Gil, we aren't girls. We both have daughters, we both have a job that's pay is crappy and we both have guns. I think we can take care of ourselves."

"Catherine, this man does not stop until he has the women he wants dead. He told me that he wants the two of you and it makes perfect sense that he does. I will not let him get to you." He said looking back and forth between Catherine, me and Brass.

"We'll if we're going to be in this 'protective guard' thing, can we at least go home, pick up our girls and maybe get a little privacy and something to eat along with all of the those. I'm hungry." Catherine told them. Well, to me it sounded like she was ordering it.

"One place; yours or Sara's. We can pick up Lindsey and Andy, but I'm going to stay with you unless I absolutely have to go, which there is nothing in this world that would make me allow him to have you easily." Brass said

"Alright…I guess we could over my place. No offence, Sara, but it's a little bigger and use to having kids." Catherine said.

I shrugged, "I don't mind. It's only the fact the Andy will need some of her things from out apartment."

"I'll have an officer get what you need, Sara. If you could make a list?" Grissom said.

I nodded, looking at him, waiting for him to say something that would mean this was all a joke, but he didn't and that scared me.

I got a piece of paper that randomly appeared in one of the uniform's hands and a pen from his pocket. I scribbled down a list of things Andy and I would need from the littler apartment. Most of it was for her, since she needed all of it more than I did, but I did put some things on there for me.

When I was done with the list, I gave the pen and paper back to the uniform who had given it to me and Brass told him he could go, leading us the way out before he left.

It went him, Grissom, me and Catherine, Brass and then three more uniforms.

Outside there were a bunch of cameras and reporters, asking each of questions. Grissom took my hand and pulled me behind me while Brass pushed Catherine and the uniforms crowded around us so they could make a path through the people.

It was only Brass and Grissom who said anything to the reporters.

"Dr. Grissom! Dr. Grissom is it true the Father Killer has struck again and is after two of your CSIs?" one of the reporters cried over the shouting.

"Yes, it is." Was all Grissom told them.

"Captain Brass, what do you know about the Father Killer, do you think he will get to your CSIs?" another reporter said.

That question didn't help me much. I didn't think that this man was a real threat, at least not to me or Catherine, but when Grissom didn't show any sign of joking, it got to me a little and I couldn't have anything happen to me, not while Andy was so young and full of life.

She loved Grissom to death and I knew he would be a good father to her if something happened to me, but Gilbert Grissom was a job addict. That was his life, his job. That fact only made me think of what would happen to Andy if he was constantly at his job all the time and I wasn't there to be with her.

"Nothing is going to get our CSIs. No one will touch them." Brass said.

We ran through the crowd, trying to get to the black SUV when Brass' phone went off the hook. It buzzed and vibrated and ticked. It was odd, no phone did that.

He told us to get in the car and when we were in; he answered the call and got into the car. A uniform drove quickly to Catherine's mother's house while Brass spoke into the phone.

Catherine and I listened carefully, trying to hear what we could.

"Yes, that's right, the Father Killer has been around the U.S. but this is still our case. If you want to investigate it with us, you may, but this is our case, you have no authority over this. Thank you for your call, Agent Gibbs, but Vegas is handling this, not D.C."

Brass closed the phone with a loud snap and sighed, looking out the front window.

"Who was that?" Catherine asked sounding like a kid.

"D.C. Apparently the Father Killer hit a navy lieutenant at Quantico and NCIS wants to take over the investigation." Brass answered, not looking at either of us, not even the uniform next to him.

Catherine nodded. I could tell she was thinking. About what, I had no idea, I wasn't a mind reader, but I knew Catherine long enough to know that she was thinking about two things; one, the Father Killer, two, NCIS and what they would do.

"Do you think this will work? Do you think they'll get us?" a young teenager whispered to the older man in front of him.

"Shh," the older man hissed, "They won't, but they will if you keep chatting. Do you want to be learn, or not?"

The teenager nodded and followed quietly as they roamed through the house, looking for a little crib that didn't belong in the house.

The teen was about thirteen, fourteen; it was hard to tell in the dark. He was tall and thin, just like the man in front of him. His dark brown hair looked black in the solid night and his piercing green eyes showed his was anxious and ready for something.

The older man had the same piercing green eyes; however, even in the dark you could tell these two males were not related at all. There were stitches right teen's eyes, which told a story that had nothing to do with this one. The older man had blond hair, not dark brown like the boy's, but a silver blond glowed in the dark. He was in his late twenties, early thirties.

Tall and thin, he crept through a half opened door and into a guest room.

Inside of the room there was a little pop - up crib that held a year old, little girl with thin, brown curls that were damp against her head from the heat of blankets and weather.

She was lying on her stomach, with her little fists barley touching her head. Her eyes twitched while she dreamed and her feet moved around under the heavy blankets.

The blond, older man stopped at the pop – up crib and smiled down at the little girl. It was one hell of a creepy smile.

"Hello, Andria," he said in a whisper.

He leaned down into the crib and picked up the small, sleeping body. He made sure he had a thin blanket around her before he and the teen snuck out of the guest room with Andria in the blonde's arms.

On their way out the front door, the same way they came in, the teen took a little, pink lily out of his bag that he had on his side and placed it behind Andria's ear. Andria who now had her head on the blonde's shoulder.

"This is going to scare the hell out of them all." The teen said as the three walked down the dark, lifeless street.

We were driving backing out of Catherine's mother's driveway when Brass' phone rang again.

Lindsey fluttered, coming out of her dreams and into the real world at the sound.

"Shh, shh. It's alright, honey. Go back to sleep." Catherine soothed her while she petted her blond hair.

"What!" Brass said into the phone.

This time, Lindsey didn't even bother going back to sleep. She knew there was going to be more yelling. The little girl rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and looked around.

When her eyes met mine, I smiled and stuck out my hand.

"Sara Sidle," I said to her as she took my hand with a sleepy smile on her face.

"Lindsey…yawn…Willows." She replied.

I chuckled, as did Catherine, when suddenly we made a sharp turn. The sirens on top of the car started and we went at a speed a little too fast, even if someone was after us, if someone was.

"Jim, what's going on?" Catherine asked.

"Nothing, we just need to get to your house quickly." He said, pressing his lips together.

"Brass, what's going on?" I demanded the same way I had when Grissom hadn't told me anything at the house.

"We just need to get to the daycare."

Then, as his face softened, I knew something was wrong. Something had happened. Something at the daycare, at Claire's.

"What happened, Jim? What happened to Andy?" I demanded, unbuckling and moving so I was looking at the side of his face.

He looked back at me, his face soft and worried the same as his eyes. "Andy's missing."

I looked at him and when he said his words, I knew he was regretting something.

I looked to Grissom. His face was the same, full of regret and misunderstanding. Worried to death was what his eyes told me.

I must have looked the same way because he answered the question I asked only mentally.

"I misunderstood his letter, Sara. He said two from my life would be hurt, harmed. Would be killed by his hand; they would turn into eleven and twelve. The first two I thought about, were you and Catherine." He said quietly.

I looked at him, directly in the eyes, horrified by his words. He didn't even consider that people thought Andy didn't have a father. That she didn't have a father who was my boss.

I became furious.

"You son of a bitch!" I cried, hitting him as hard as I could without falling onto anyone. "You let him take her! You mistook her for me? Your own damn daughter! You bastard! You didn't even consider that he might have thought about her!"

I hit him as hard as I could, over and over again. No one tried to stop me, not even him. When I finally broke down in sobs, he took my hand and brought me close to him. He placed my head in his shoulder and he petted my hair slowly, hushing me as I cried into his shoulder.

"Daughter?" I heard Lindsey ask Catherine, but there was no response. I could feel Catherine's and Brass' eyes on the two of us.

"I'm so sorry, Sara. I didn't mean for this to happen. I'm so sorry. We'll find her, we'll find her." Grissom said in my ear.

He better stay good on his promise, other ways I was going to kill him.


	3. Apologizes

I pulled out my phone once it started ringing, right as we turned the final corner to Claire's home.

"Sidle," I said, trying to cover the fact that I had been crying into my daughter's father's shoulder.

"Oh, Sara! I'm so sorry! I don't know who they got in. We've got a security system and everything! Oh, Sara….I feel like such an idiot. I'm so sorry we lost Andy. I never meant for this to happen. Sara I'm so, so sorry." Claire Jones' voice said into the phone and my ear.

Claire was both Andy's baby sitter during the day when I was working on a case, and at night, when I was officially working on shift. Her husband had been a detective for Graveyard, and was now a CSI for Swing, so she knew what it was like to be a parent working these crazy hours, to a point.

Claire only took care of children that were part of the "LVPD family tree" - ? – as she called it. She had taken care of Lindsey a few times when Catherine first started as a CSI.

"Claire, Claire, calm down. I know you didn't mean for anything to happen. Even if you had known about what was going to happen," I shot Grissom a deadly glance, "there would have been no way you could have stopped it. Thank you, though, for taking her in tonight. Um, how 'bout I talk you in a few seconds, Claire? I just pulled up to your house."

I heard her nod and then I saw her face look out a front window, her blue eyes red from crying violently. I probably looked the same way. Brass and the officer who had been driving got out of the car, as did Grissom, with me following.

"Lindsey, I want you to stay here for a few minutes, just until we get back. Alright?" Catherine told her little girl.

Lindsey nodded just as I closed the door behind me and followed Grissom and Brass into the house. I heard Catherine close her door and jog over to us so she could follow.

When she caught up, Brass was talking to an officer outside Claire's white, front door. Grissom had stopped to ask questions and listen to the officer. I was just following the man, I was so screwed up about Andy being kidnapped, I was lucky I knew how to walk. Like I said before, I was just following him because I did not, _did not,_ know what to do at _all._

Catherine placed a hand on my shoulder, and I could feel the tears coming again. I found a way to use my left hand which I crossed over my chest so I could hold onto Catherine's thin hand for support. I didn't know if she had been through anything like this, or if she would. I didn't want to know, though, I thought that it might tell me that I'm not the only mother in the world to have this happen to her child, even though I already knew that I wasn't the only one.

I guess it would have just made me feel better if I knew somebody who had already been through the hell I was just starting to go through.

All of the sudden, a man came up from behind the two of us and walked around me so he could look at me.

"Sara, I'm so, so sorry. You know Claire would never do something like this one purpose. Oh, I'm so sorry about Andy." Richard Jones said, hugging me tightly, not even acknowledging Catherine.

I held onto him tightly, yet awkwardly. He sighed into my hair, and I was sure I wasn't the only one that heard the loud sigh. I couldn't understand if it was in relief, pleasure or whatever, I just knew that I was getting uncomfortable and Richard wasn't.

There was a husky cough from in front of me and I knew it was Grissom. Richard let go of me, kept a hand on my back and looked at Grissom, his eyes misunderstanding and dangerous.

"Dr. Grissom. I assume you are working the case?" Richard said, staring at the father of my child.

"I am, Mr. Jones, and with that I have some questions to ask you. Your wife said to Sara just a minute ago that you have a security system – why didn't it go off when the man broke in?"

"Dr. Grissom, I've seen what you can do, I've also read the reports on the Father Killer. You and I both know that he could have broken in without anyone knowing anything. Don't play me though I know nothing. And I think that all of us would have guessed that a year old would wake up when unfamiliar hands are touching her body. Especially Andy." Richard replied.

I gasped. Not in pain, not in horror, just in shock and sadness of someone using my little girl's name in the way that Richard was using it.

Yes, Andy was smart for her age. That had been proven by science, my profession, but even a year old wouldn't be that conscience of someone picking her up and moving her; I did it to Andy all the time when I was called in or when I started shift, so for all we know she could have thought it was me.

It was then that Detective Vartann walked through the front door of Claire and Richard's house, right next to Brass. Brass whispered something into his ear and Vartann nodded.

I think he had already talked to Grissom about this when Vartann walked up to me and Catherine while Grissom looked at me sympathetically. "C'mon Sara, I'll take you home to get your things. Catherine, why don't you come with us until the scene is done?"

"My house is not a scene, Vartann." Richard nearly growled.

I immediately moved away from Richard and came closer to Vartann and Catherine. Richard didn't seem to notice, he only looked at Brass, Grissom and Vartann.

I saw Catherine nod out of the corner of my eye and with that the three of us walked away from Richard and towards the SUV we had came in.

"Watch," the blond said to the teen as they watched CSIs Sidle and Willows along with Detective Vartann walk up to Sidle's apartment. "You're going to see fireworks coming from the place."

I threw my keys onto the counter, knowing I probably wouldn't use them for awhile when I a muffled cry. Vartann, Lindsey and Catherine heard it too.

Vartann brought out his gun just as Catherine did. I didn't, even though I was under protective guard. I knew that cry, even if it was muffled, I would know that cry anywhere at any time, even in years to come.

"Andy," I whispered as I started to walk through my apartment and down the hall to Andy's room.

"Sara? Sara, don't go down there!" Vartann called after me, Catherine following.

I pushed Andy's door open and saw what only I thought I would imagine.


	4. No Matter Where We Are

_I pushed Andy's door open and saw what only I thought I would imagine._

Andy was sitting in her crib, her warm brown eyes red from crying. She had her little thumb at the corner of her mouth and all the other fingers sticking up in the air. She was signing, "Mother".

Tears blurred my vision as I saw her crying violently; tears rolling down her cheeks, onto her red lips, her shirt…Her brown curls were even soaked from the fierce sobs.

She kept signing "Mother" and kept crying, her eyes filled with hot tears and as I stared at her in disbelief, I saw a lily behind her ear. It had five petals, but I didn't pay any attention to it. My little girl was right in front of me when I thought I would never see her again…or hold her again.

I ran across her room towards her crib at the other side of the room, dodging the wooden rocking chair and threw my arms into the cage, collecting my baby girl in my arms and holding her tight to me.

I placed my hand on the back of her head, holding her to me as she cried endlessly and I began to copy her actions. I felt my knees buckle and I lowered myself to the ground with the help of the crib, one arm reluctantly leaving Andy's back.

When I came to the ground, I made myself a little more comfortable on the carpet and held my little baby tightly to me as we both cried. I gasped between hard sobs in relief, happy to hold my little girl in my arms.

Even when she had been missing for at least hour and a half, it felt like eternity. I felt as though I hadn't touched her in decades.

"Everyone, this is Detective Vartann. We found Andy; I repeat, we found Andy." I heard Vartann say softly behind me.

I could feel Catherine's, Lindsey's and Vartann's eyes looking at my back, but I didn't care. Right now, my Andy was the center of my world, was the center of my life. She always would be for as long as I lived, but I thought I had lost her and I had thought I would die if I didn't find her.

"Where?" I heard Brass' voice demanded through the radio.

"Sara's apartment. He must have taken her, broken in and left her. She was in the crib." Vartann replied.

"We're on our way," Brass said and then the radio went dead.

There were a few steps behind me and I knew they were Catherine's, looking around for what she could find as I controlled my breathing along with my tears.

Andy seemed to be in control of her tears, but her breathing was still ragged and deep. It scared me a little, but it slowed, slowly until it was just her taking deep, shaky breaths.

"What'd you fine?" Vartann asked someone behind me.

"Another letter from our favorite serial killer?" Catherine responded, the hint of "not surprised" in her voice.

"Yeah, I saw the one he left at the McKay girl's house. It looks like he did it." Vartann said.

It wasn't minutes after the detective said his words that I heard sirens coming up and down the road and into the parking lot below us.

Andy jumped at the squeaking of the tires and the loud sirens and I tried to calm her as best as I could so she wouldn't cry anymore. If couldn't handle seeing her cry again.

"Sara! Catherine!" Grissom yelled coming through the door of my apartment.

"Down here," Catherine shouted back.

I covered Andy's ears, trying to block the noise and hushed her and rocked her back and forth with a hand on the back of her head, trying to put her to sleep.

I heard Grissom hurry down the hall and into the room as soon as he heard Catherine's voice. He stopped when he saw something and I assumed it was Andy, her small, perfect face blushed from crying and her brown eyes red from crying.

He walked slowly up to us and I knew Andy saw him when she shifted, moving her face in my neck, her little fists tucked together under her chin. She knew she was safe, that nothing would happen to her. Not with both of us here.

Grissom squatted down behind us and placed a hand on my shoulder. The next thing I felt was the side of his head brush against my hair and him placing his head against Andy's.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, "I never meant for any of this to happen."

There was a moment of silence in the room; no one spoke or shifted. It didn't even sound like anyone was breathing, I knew I was holding my breath but Grissom's breath was so silent, if it hadn't been tracing itself against my neck like Andy, I would have thought he was suffocating himself for what had happened.

"No one means of anything to happen. It just does to teach us something. I hope this teaches us more than one thing." I said quietly, but I do believe everyone in the room heard me.

"Some things will always happen, no matter where we are or how hard we try to stop it. It's together that we will destroy and conquer." Brass said.


	5. Five Can Change Things?

Grissom's POV

A Week Later

"Damn it!" I shouted hitting my fist against the counter in my kitchen.

I discarded the copy of his letter to the other side of the room where I would forget about it until days to come.

He meant this on propose, to taunt me, scare me. He does his homework, he should have known that Sara had Andy's DNA tested when she was first born to find out if her theories were correct as to who Andy's father was.

He should have seen the file and he should have seen that I was her father; that she wasn't for him.

But know that I thought about it, he wanted it this way. He _had_ done his homework, he had seen that I was Andy's father, blood and bone, and he had seen that neither of us had told anyone that I was Andy's father.

He was toying with me. Pushing me up a ladder I didn't want to climb.

Five petals; they usually meant which number that victim was and he was long from five. But Andy wasn't, she had four years until she would be in kindergarten, four years until she would turn five and be able to speak and walk. She would be more of a challenge for him when she was older.

She would be like Sara and she was someone he wanted.

When he left his first letter, he hadn't been speaking of Catherine and Sara. Now that I knew his trick, he was talking about Sara and Andy. Two that I _truly_ did care for, not that I did not care for Catherine, Andy was my daughter and Sara was her mother.

I knew for a fact that if something happened to Sara that left Andy in my hands until I died, that she wouldn't be right. Many people had said that I over worked, that I loved work more than anything.

That last part had been somewhat true until last month, when I found out I had a little girl who I could smoother with love and no one would look curious.

The first part was true too. I did over work and that's what would have made me a bad parent if Sara wasn't here. She didn't stay over time for anything, not yet that was, but still. I stayed at the lab for days, just working and looking over case files.

He knew it and I knew; if he wanted Sara, but he was going after Andy, he was digging into my heart, finding my weakness; however, he was still getting what he wanted.

I could already tell by the look in those wide, warm, beautiful brown eyes that she was going to be like her mother. She would probably be more like Sara then she would me (Sara denied that fact when we last spoke of Andy and what she would be like when she was older.).

I could only imagine of what he wanted to do when those four years passed by us all. And when I did try and dig into his mind and find out what he wanted to do to my little girl, it made me sick.

What he had done to those poor girls…

His words ran through my head, over and over again and the more it ran through my head, the more it seemed that I could hear his voice, even though I did officially know it.

I had imagined of what it sounded like; raspy, intelligent, light and sincere.

But this was different; this was actually normal. It wasn't all that of a surprise to me, all serial killer's voices sounded normal, they all sounded human because they were, but their actions were in every way inhumane.

_Death can bring peace_

_ Death can bring life_

_ But it is one person in one's life that brings the Death to them._

_ One they may love, _

_ One they may hate_

_ Words can kill_

_ Emotions, actions ,and nature can kill_

_ Which one is you, Gil?_

_ Who will you kill?_

_ Will they be one that you love?_

_ Or one that you may hate?_

_Who is who in your life?_

_ Who will you kill?_

_ Love? Hate? Nature? Emotions? Actions? Sara? Catherine? Warrick? Nick? Jim?_

_ Andria?_

_ Who will your victim be for Death can be anything, anyone at any cause; for even nothing at all. _

_ It does not have to be at your hand that one dies, but at the hand of your heart and blindness, Gil._

_ Chose, for I will be watching. Chose or I will._

Those words ran through my head over and over, frustrating me with every second. His taunts and tricks were causing danger to everyone I cared for.

But there was one thing, one thing that he meant to have there. On each corner of the page, back and front, there were was one number. Five…

On the back of the page, the word had been written all over it. Five, five, five, five…endless numbers of five.

I had thought about it over and over again, in every way that I was aware of.

Five days was too early for him. Five weeks and five months? Maybe yet highly unlikely knowing how he acted. Five years? Possibly. Five women who had lost their fathers? A good chance.

However, the more I thought about it, the more I thought about what they had to do with Andy. She was a year old, four years to come but he had said nothing about four at all. But in four years her age would be four; it would two thousand and four, going on two thousand and five.

He wanted Andy for what she would be, I was sure of it. I had to work on it; there was something there that he wanted me to know.

As I walked off towards my bed room, I couldn't help but think how I would keep Andy away from him. The harder it was for him to get his victims, the more pain he inflicted on them.

And I knew we wouldn't catch him, not while we were protecting Andy. So, not letting him have what he wants would make him more pissed and it would just make the possibility of Andy getting hurt higher up.

I sighed, rubbed my forehead and fell, face first, onto my bed, closing my eyes and falling into a peaceful slumber that I had desperately needed.


End file.
